One After Another
by NukeRose
Summary: (Sequel to the rewritten Shared) Life has never been easy. Jude, Connor, Danny and Harry know this first hand, better than most people. They thought that their struggles were over, but their fight was only just beginning... But nothing worthwhile is ever easy.
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

**August 5th, 2016.**

 **Edinburgh, Scotland.**

I was born December 3rd, 2000.

My beloved was born the same day and I've spent almost every second of every minute of every single day since at his side and now that was coming to an end.

I can still remember the day my oldest friend became my boyfriend with stunning clarity, as if viewing it on a television screen. Standing in front of him in his mom's garden, blushing while handing him a bouquet of roses and asking him to be my boyfriend. How he hugged me, smiling a thousand watt smile as he squealed the word "yes" over and over before kissing me on the cheek. How we posed for those pictures afterwards.

But that was ending.

Today was August 5th, 2016. It was 9:27 pm and I lay in a bed.

Gideon Kennedy was dying, and there was nothing anybody could do about it.

The stem cell and bone marrow transplants were a failure. It kills me to know that the blood I donated, the stem cells and bone marrow that I gave to him did nothing to help him. The chemotherapy didn't do anything to kill the sickness.

I love him so much, and every time I look at his frail form I die a little inside just like he is.

The cancer, that He'd been fighting it for so long, and we both knew the end was near.

I could hear him starting to sniffle next to me, where he was curled up in my arms. The sniffling evolved into full on crying and I stared down into his blue eyes with fear in my eyes. The pain contained within the oceans of blue caused my heart to burn.

"What's wrong, love?" I asked.

"I-I d-don't want to f-f-fight anymore, D-Danny." He whimpered pitifully.

"What do you mean, Giddy?" I asked gently, fear taking hold of my heart with an iron fisted grip.

"I'm just so tired." He stammered tearfully, "I'm ready for the pain to stop."

It was at that moment that I understood what he was really saying.

After fighting for so long, he was finally giving up.

"What? But… You can't give up." I said, tears welling in my eyes immediately.

"I g-gave up a l-long time ago, D-Danny." He said through his tears, "The only reason I held on to life for so long was because I didn't want to l-leave you here a-alone. But I don't think I have a choice."

I shook my head in denial, and the waterfall of tears fell in torrents.

"It's too late for me, Danny." Gideon whispered, "I'm gonna die."

"How am I supposed to go on without you?" I sobbed, staring into his pained, sad and tired blue eyes, "I don't want to live without you. I don't know if I can, baby."

"You have to, Danny. I want you to promise me something." Giddy said weakly.

"Anything, I'll do anything you ask." I sobbed, clutching him desperately to me.

"Promise me that you'll keep living." He cried, "That you'll go on, even if you have to do it without me.

"I don't know how." I cried, vision blurry through my tears.

"Then you have to learn." Harry begged tearfully, "If you have to learn how to live again, you do it. If you have to find somebody who can teach you HOW to live again, you do it. Promise me, please?"

I looked into the eyes of the boy I loved. I couldn't deny him this. It would be cruel.

"I p-promise, love. I promise." I cried, tears leaking down my face harder.

"I... I love you Danny." Giddy sobbed.

The first gasping sob escaped my lips at the words and I clutched him even closer, even tighter.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to say it aloud." Gideon sobbed, "But when I'm gone... I want you to know that."

"I love you too, Giddy." I sobbed back, my speech barely understandable through my heaving sobs, "That's one thing that'll never change. You didn't even have to say it, I already knew. It's just one of those things that doesn't need words to be real. You have no idea how much I love you. I'll never stop."

"Danny… Kiss me. Please?" Giddy said.

"What?" I asked him through my tears.

"I know you said you wanted to wait." Giddy cried softly, "Until I got better, to make out and stuff. But we both know that's not gonna happen, and I want know what it's like to really kiss the boy I love before it's too late."

I let go of him and turned on the bed to face him. Even in this state, I still found him beautiful.

I reached out and gently brushed my fingers across his soft pale cheek.

I knew.

The moment was coming.

I was about to lose him, and his last request was for me to kiss him the way I should have been doing for years.

"Okay." I said tearfully.

I leaned, in and pressed my lips to his. As soon as our lips made contact, I felt him relax beneath me and he opened his mouth to allow my tongue the entrance that it needed. As we dueled for dominance, I opened my eyes to see his face.

For the first time in a long time, through all the pain and suffering that regularly cloaked his beautiful face, I saw bliss. I saw him at peace. I took a moment to memorize his face in that moment, to burn it, no sear it into my memory for eternity before I closed my eyes and allowed myself to feel the same bliss.

After four minutes, his breathing got shallow.

A minute later, I felt him exhale.

I kept kissing him, but he had stopped responding.

He had kissing me back.

I pulled away, and stared into his eyes stared ahead, unseeing and blank.

"Giddy?" I asked fearfully.

He didn't answer.

I choked out a sob.

"G-G-Giddy, d-don't do this to m-me b-baby, please."

Still no answer.

My sobs grew hysterical, loud, desperate.

"Nonononono, please. P-please w-wake up."

When my pleas went unanswered, my grief consumed me.

It was 9:36 pm, and he was gone.

I stared at his blank face, shaking my head in denial.

No, he couldn't be dead.

But he was.

I reared my head back and screamed.

"NOOOOO! GIDDY, NO!"

My mother and father, along with Gideon's, ran into the room to find me clinging to Gideon's body, pleading with it.

"PLEASE, NO!" I pleaded, "PLEASE GIDDY! PLEASE COME BACK!"

I felt arms rap around me and try to comfort me, but I wrestled my way out with a blind punch.

"GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF ME!" I screamed in distress and rage.

"How dare they?" I thought to myself, "How dare they try to take me from him. I don't want comfort. I want him. Nothing but him."

But that was never going to happen.

The screaming didn't stop, until I felt something poke my skin and everything went dark.

When I woke up, I screamed more, and the screaming went on for days.

 **One Month Later.**

 **September 14th 2016.**

 **Anchor Beach Charter School, San Diego, CA.**

 **11:35 am**

It's been a month since Gideon died, and I'm broken. I had lost the one person who meant most to me in my life.

At the funeral, it was raining. The atmosphere of the day fit the circumstances. I was a pallbearer. I knelt in front of the coffin and cried into the polished mahogany for the whole ceremony. When the casket closed for the final time, and the bolts went in to seal it, I lost it. I sobbed into my mom's shoulder for the rest of the night.

I locked myself in my room, struggling to keep the promise I made to Giddy.

I promised him I'd keep living, but how do you keep living when the one person who made you feel alive was buried six feet beneath the Earth?

So when my mother and father asked me what I thought about moving to America, I couldn't agree fast enough. When we were on the plane to California, I stared down at the land of my birth. I knew that I would not be coming back for a long time, if ever.

Scotland held too many memories. America would either save me, or be where they buried me.

My parents try to help me, god bless their hearts. They try to tell me the know some of what I feel, that they loved Giddy too, that it hurts them too.

But they don't know, not really.

Sure, they loved Giddy as if he was their own son. But I was _in love_ with him. They say it hurts them, and I'm sure it does. But they don't see cars coming down the street and wonder if it's going fast enough to kill you if you were to leap out in front of you.

I lost the one person who kept me balanced. Everything about me had shifted. Everything from my attitude, to my taste in clothing (now exclusively mourning black) and music (now the angriest of metal to match my inner turmoil and fury).

The only thing I have left of him are memories, pictures, and his cane sword. It arrived in the mail yesterday, with a note.

"Take care of this, just like you cared for our baby. We love you Danny, and we're so sorry." The note had read.

I put that note in my safe that I keep on my desk.

And now I have to deal with this new school.

Anchor Beach. I will admit that, even in my depressed semi suicidal state, I see the appeal of having a school that sits right on the beach. I do not, however, see the appeal that some of these Americans do at showing off and acting like right troglodytes. Had a run in with a few idiots earlier, and had to teach them some manners.

During my thoughts, as I stomped through the school on my way to eat my lunch, my duffel bag tossed over my shoulder, I wasn't watching where I was going and I felt myself collide with something.

I whipped around just in time to grab the wrist of the person I had plowed through, preventing him from falling and steadying him.

I stared at the boy for a second, and then observed his companion for a moment. The boy I had knocked over was tall and skinny, and had brown hair that was just long enough to look like a shaggy mop. His brown eyes observed me as mine observed him, holding a hint of fear as he and his companion took a step back.

His companion was about the same height, maybe a couple centimeters shorter. He was much more muscular than his friend, and you could tell that he played some kind of sport. He had dirty blond hair which was cut much shorter than the others, and his hazel eyes stared at me, wide as saucers as he eyed me up and down.

"Terribly sorry 'bout that, mate." I said softly, "I wasn't payin' attention to where I was going."

"S'alright." The brunette said.

"Whoa." I heard the blond whisper, as he gave me a once over.

"No kidding." Brunette whispered back.

"Nice look." Blondie said to me.

I couldn't help the subtle shift in my stance. It was as if I was subconsciously bracing myself for a fight. I couldn't tell whether the compliment was genuine or mocking.

"Thank you?" I said, phrasing it as a question, "I think."

The brunette shifted nervously, and I sighed. I relaxed. They weren't going to hurt me, so I shouldn't be so tense and scary.

"You sure you're a'ight, mate?" I asked him.

"Yeah. I'm fine." He said.

"Then relax, mate. There's no need to look so nervous." I said gently, quirking my lip into the first small smile it had seen in a month, "I'm not gonna hurt you, or anything stupid like that. You look like you're about to have a heart attack."

"Sorry, just not every day I meet somebody my age who dresses like a member of the KGB." He joked.

"A member of the KGB? Oh, that's just too good." I thought to myself as I snorted, and soon I was bent over laughing. It was the first time I'd laughed in a month, and it felt great.

"Nice. I haven't heard that one before." I stammered as I chuckled, "I haven't laughed like that in a month."

"Glad I could be of service." He said with a small smile.

"I'm gonna have to write that down, actually." I said, "They usually say I'm dressed like a member of the Italian mafia, or an undercover FBI Agent, or more recently an incarnation of Doctor Who."

The two of them snorted.

I smiled back at the two of them.

Gideon's words returned to me.

 _"If you have to find somebody who can teach you HOW to live again, you do it."_

These two. These two random boys had already made me laugh, and had cheered me up a bit. That was something that nobody else had been able to do.

They seem alright, so… ah, what the hell. What can it hurt?

"Hey, uh... Do you fine gentleman mind if I sit with you?" I asked nervously.

"Yeah. Of course." Brunette said, "As long as you don't mind sitting with the school's resident gay kids."

"That makes all three of us, so I amongst my own kind then." He said nonchalantly as we lead him to our table, "Besides, you're both the first people I've met today who are even remotely pleasant. Had a run in with a couple of troglodytes earlier. Had to teach them some manners."

They stared at me for a second. Presumably it was because I admitted my sexuality so casually. They shared a look and nodded.

"Sure, follow us." Brunette said, and I smiled at him gratefully.

We walked over to a table which sat in the grass right under a tree that gives the perfect amount of shade, and sat down. I sat my duffle bag on the table, unzipped it, and produced three twenty ounce bottles of Coca Cola and a thermos. I opened the thermos, which was full of ice, and cracked open one of the bottles and poured the drink into it and took a sip after the fizz had gone down.

"Delicious." I said, before reaching into my bag and producing a roast beef sandwich.

"Um..." Blondie started to say, but rethought it and stayed silent.

"What?"

"Nothing, just... I can't really see what you look like. Your hair and glasses kind of hide it." He said.

"Oh! Okay, hang on." I said.

I removed my hat and sunglasses and shook my hair out of my face, giving them both a small smile.

"So... what accent is that?" Brunette asked instead.

"Scottish." He said, "Born and raised in Edinburgh, the capital of Scotland."

"That's cool." Blondie said with a smile, "I've never met anybody from another country before. What was it like?"

"It was alright, until..." I started to say.

 _Gideon._

"Um. Never mind." I backtracked quickly.

"Oh! We never got your name!" Blondie exclaimed.

"Bollocks, I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce myself, didn't I?" I said, facepalming at my rudeness, "Forgetting my manners. How rude of me, I apologize. My name's Daniel. Daniel Evans. But you can call me Danny."

"Okay, well, I'm Jude. Jude Adams-Foster." The brunette introduced himself.

 _Hey Jude, don't make it bad…_

I couldn't help myself.

"Hey Jude!" I exclaimed, reaching out and shaking Jude's offered hand vigorously, "That's my all time favorite song!"

The other boy burst into a fit of giggles.

"Why does everybody always make that joke?" Jude asked.

"Because it's too obvious." Jude's friend teased, "I'm Connor. Connor Stevens."

Jude and Connor.

I shook Connor's hand with a small smile.

There was something about these two… Something I needed.

Subconsciously, I glanced to the sky, remembering my promise to Gideon.

 _"Giddy, I think I've found them."_


	2. Chapter 2: Deja Vu

Friday, December 10th 2032.

Connor's POV:

It was the end of another long day at work, and I was finally home, free from Sacred Cross Hospital. I inserted my key into the door of my apartment and turned it, opening the door and marching inside, ripping the nasty shirt of my scrubs off once I had closed the door behind me.

I was greeted first by mine and Jude's puppy, a teacup poodle named Augustus, or Auggie for short. I leant down and scratched his head affectionately for a moment before straightening up. I took my shoes off, and sat my shirt over the back of a chair before proceeding further into the apartment in search of my beloved husband.

"Juju! I'm home!" I called out.

"In the kitchen!" His voice responded from the depths of our abode

I smile and stepped into the kitchen and stood at the entrance to observe my beloved.

Jude Adams Foster Stevens had changed a lot since the early days of our relationship. The once timid and cute young boy, who I had once befriended and later held after his brother's death, had grown into a strong, confidant, and sassy grown man. He stood at six foot three inches tall, had hair long just enough to curl at the ends, and had muscles that now rivaled mine.

Jude and I have been married for fourteen years, and twenty two days. In that time, so much had happened. In that time, we witnessed our two closest friends, Danny and Harry's wedding. We witnessed Danny's band taking off and releasing their first album, then their second and so on. We witnessed Harry publish and release his first book, and saw that book hit the top of the New York Times bestseller list. Three of us went to college at the University of California, San Diego. Jude studied to become a teacher, Harry studied English, and I studied to become a doctor and a surgeon.

We obtained our Associates Degrees in 2022, then Bachelor's Degrees with honors in mid-2026. That same year, Jude started teaching English at Anchor Beach with his mother, and I started working at Sacred Cross, the same hospital where Jude and I first became boyfriends. In 2031 we obtained Masters Degrees, and Jude decided that his mounting debt was not worth increasing to get a Doctorate Degree. I went on to obtain my Doctorate, and ended up reconnecting with Daria and Taylor in the process, renewing the friendship we had all once shared. The first time Danny and Harry met them, the embarrassing stories traded seemed endless.

I walked in and wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing kisses to the side of his face and neck. I stood there for ten minutes, just holding my husband, who was cradling a cup of coffee in one hand, and a glazed donut in the other. This was arguably one of my favorite things in the world, coming home from work and just being able to hold him, a dream come true that had once been thought impossible. He placed his coffee and donut on the counter, and turned around in my arms and smiled at me before kissing me softly. I responded immediately, my lips tingling the whole time, as they always did when Jude and I kissed. Our hands roamed as we kissed, running over each other's arms and muscles. After a few minutes of our joyful sport, he pulled back and looked me up and down, eyeing my exposed chest and abs. He ran his hand down my chest, and as always I shivered at his soft caress.

"You took your shirt off already." Jude observed approvingly, "Not that I am complaining. Snack and a strip tease. Perfect way to relax."

"Hahaha." I guffawed, "I used both of my pairs of scrubs today. The shirt of my scrubs that I wore home is drenched in sweat and other nasty things. You wouldn't have let me anywhere near you if I was wearing it."

"Probably not. Long day I'm guessing?" Jude asked.

"Yep." I said with a sigh, "You probably saw it on the news earlier, but there was a huge pile up on the freeway earlier. Twenty cars involved. I was in surgery for four hours trying to put this little kid's leg back together. I thought we were gonna have to amputate it."

Jude winced.

"You didn't though, right?"

"Nah, we managed to piece it back together." I said with a relieved sigh, "He's gonna be laid up for quite a while though. I referred his parents to the best physical therapist I know, Dr. Amari."

"That's good," Jude said, "He'll get the best care possible. How did the pile up happen anyway?"

"Teenage driver on the Five Freeway spun out." I recounted, "Then after all that, I had these two nurses almost kill one of the patients."

"How'd they manage that?" Jude asked, astonished.

"Don't get me started." I begged.

"I want to know, though. Tell meeeeeee." Jude teased.

"Gah, Okay, Okay. Silly creature." I teased back, pressing a kiss to his forehead, "The man was allergic to morphine and I guess what I caught them trying to give him?"

"Morphine?"

I nod my head.

"Yep. Right on the nose." I confirmed, "I don't see how the idiots could make that mistake, it said in his charts, it listed all of his allergies: peanuts, oatmeal and morphine. I'm gonna have to talk to somebody about getting these people a little extra training, the last thing I need is a patient dying on my watch. It would be a nightmare."

"What else happened?" Jude asked as we moved to sit at the kitchen table.

"Well, hell must have frozen over." I said, "Because I saw Danny and Harry before I left."

"Really, why were they at the hospital? Danny tends to avoid hospitals at all costs." Jude said, slightly shocked that our oldest friend would set foot into a hospital without being sedated first.

I knew exactly what Jude meant. Danny and hospitals have never gotten along, not since Gideon died.

"Well, apparently Harry hasn't been feeling well lately. He's been feeling sick since Danny came back from being on tour for the new Iron Will album." I explained, "Harry thinks that it's just the flu. Says he's been feeling very tired lately. But Danny's super paranoid about sickness so he said he was gonna have them run some blood tests too."

"Okay, what else happened?" Jude asked again.

"Other than that? Not much else. Couple of drunks admitted that needed their stomachs pumped, and a couple of broken limbs that needed attending." I said, "What about you? How was your day in the wonderful world of English education?"

I laid on the sarcasm extra thick at the last sentence. Jude huffed and ran his hand through his shaggy hair.

"Okay, so I'm having my seventh grade classes write their first research papers, right?" He complained, "I assigned it on Friday, told them to have a written rough draft to turn in today."

"I remember you telling me about it, yeah."

"Well, out of thirty kids, 12 of them didn't do it at all, five weren't at the required length, and three were way too similar to be original work." Jude ranted irritably, "The rest of them were decent, if a bit iffy on the formatting. Some of them though… I swear to god, some of these kids I have to teach barely know how to read, let alone write an essay."

"That bad huh?" I asked, enjoying how his cute face was turning red as his ranting continued.

"YES!" He exclaimed, "I know for a fact that I was better than that at their age, and I was hopping around to different schools every year from being in the foster system! And, OH MY GOD, don't even get me started on their penmanship!"

Don't get him started?

But I had to get him started on their penmanship, because Jude is extremely adorable when he works himself up into a furious rant. It was fun to watch his face turn red and watch his limbs flail about as he got himself worked up about whatever topic he was raving about.

"What's wrong with their penmanship?" I asked.

"Oh. My. GOD! It's like some of them have never even held a fuckin pencil before in their lives." He whined furiously, his arms flailing about in anger, "There were a couple of drafts, and I kid you not, there were no spaces in between the fucking words! Everything was blurred together! I can read the doctors chicken scratch you call your penmanship just fine, but this was atrocious. I can write in Cyrillic better than these kids can write English! I swear to god, a chipmunk on LSD could write better than some of these kids."

I snorted.

"A chipmunk on LSD? Really?" I ask, laughter coloring my voice.

"You know you love my weird similes." He returned.

"Oh but, of course." I said, amusement thick in my voice, "Anyway what's for dinner?"

"Monday night tonight." Jude said.

"I'll order." I said, withdrawing my phone from my pocket and dialing the number.

"I'll start the XBOX." Jude said, bolting into the living room. My eyes trail after him, and I smile.

That was a tradition we had. Every Monday night we'd eat in front of the TV, while playing on the ancient XBOX ONE that I had kept from my teenage years. Usually we spent hours playing Fallout 4, which neither of us could ever truly get tired of. No matter how many times we won it, which trust me, was many times. Nothing beats destroying bigoted scientists. Afterwards we usually retired to our bedroom for a night of, uh… pleasurable physical activity.

Twenty minutes later, we were sitting on the couch. Jude was eating a burger, well done with a large order of French fries, while I was eating chicken tenders and fries. My eyes were locked on the TV, and a chicken tender was dangling from the corner of my mouth as I concentrated on not getting killed by a super mutant behemoth called Swan.

"What's the point of this?" I asked, "A Behemoth hiding in a pond? It serves no purpose."

"He can be useful, though." Jude pointed out, "If you're being chased by a gang of raiders or ghouls, he can kill them all."

"Yeah, except he'll probably kill me too." I said, mashing the fire button on the controller, "DIE YOU BASTARD!"

It took us about twenty more minutes to finish eating, and we both looked exhausted.

"You wanna go to bed?" I ask him, "We don't have to keep playing."

"Yeah, let's do it." He said.

"No pun intended, I'm guessing?" I joke.

He turned to me and raised an eyebrow. Then, he reached out and dragged a finger from my collarbone down to the waistband of my sweatpants, slipping his hand inside to press it against me.

"You want to?" He purred.

Oh.

Damn. Him.

"Yes please." I said, nodding furiously.

"Race you to the bedroom." He said, withdrawing his hand and running for the bedroom.

Needless to say, I couldn't have run fast enough if I had a jet engine attached to my back.

 **The Next Morning:**

The first thing I noticed when I woke up, besides the pleasant ache, was that my phone was ringing off the hook. I reached for it, fumbling for it before finally getting it in my grip and answering it. I grumble to myself as I notice that it's 1:00 in the afternoon. I don't like sleeping in this late, but when Jude and I stay up into the late hours of the morning having sex, it always happens.

"'Ello?" I mutter sleepily into the phone.

The first thing I hear is a gasping sob.

I'm awake immediately.

"Hello?" I ask more clearly.

"C-c-Connor?" A familiar voice sobbed on the other end.

I shot up in bed, knocking Jude off of me, waking him up.

"Whazgoinon?" He mumbled, "Who is it?"

I turned to Jude, as my heart began its descent into the pit of my stomach.

"It's Danny." I told him quickly, "He's crying. Something is wrong."

I returned my attention to the phone

"Danny?" I asked gently.

All that I got in response was a sob.

"Danny, what's wrong?" I plead, "Talk to me brother."

"I-I n-need you and Jude. Now." He sobbed, "C-can I c-come over?"

"Of course." I said, "You don't even need to ask."

"I-I'm o-o-outside, I-I'll b-be t-t-t-there in t-two minutes."

He hung up. I turned to Jude.

"Let's get dressed; we don't want a repeat of what happened in London." I said.

Jude flushed.

He hated when I mentioned that. Danny had been on tour with the band in London and had flown us in to see him play the O2 arena. The night of the show, Danny came to the hotel to pick us up and take us to the show, and walked in on Jude and I having sex. The bottom jokes he would toss at me endured for over a month until I blackmailed him into stopping.

Anyway, getting off topic.

We rushed to throw on some pajamas, and true to his word, not even two minutes later there is a knock on the door of our apartment. I rush to answer it.

The door flies open to reveal Danny, and he is a complete mess.

He is still wearing the same outfit that he was wearing when I saw him the day before at the hospital. His hair was messy, and was sticking up in every possible direction. His eyes were completely bloodshot, and his cheeks were stained with tear tracks. His shoulders were shuddering with unconcealed sobs.

He launches forward and pulls me and Jude into a hug.

"Danny what's wrong?" Jude asked worriedly.

"It's h-h-happening again. IT'S HAPPENING A-FUCKING-GAIN!" He screamed hysterically, before he released us and his knees gave out as he sunk to the floor.

"What?" I asked, not bothering to conceal my fear, "What's happening again? What are you talking about?"

"It's H-H-Harry." He sobbed.

"What's wrong? What happened to Harry?" I ask, an enormous sense of dread forming in the pit of my stomach. "Where is he?"

"He's still at the hospital. They admitted him immediately." He said, crying frantically, "It was just supposed to be a normal visit to the doctor!"

"Danny, what happened?" I asked again.

"I've seen it before, I should have seen the signs, I should have SEEN THE FUCKING SIGNS!"

"What do you mean?" I ask him, trying to stay calm myself, "WHAT SIGNS?"

"HE'S GOT LEUKEMIA! HARRY HAS FUCKING LEUKEMIA!"

Danny grabbed his hair, and he pulled. His sobs overcame him, and he dropped to his knees and screamed before curling up on the floor. The scream he let out would haunt me far into the future.

My heart stopped.

"No." I whimpered, "No, that… it can't be true. There has to be a mistake."

I prayed that this was a joke. It had to be.

Harry? With Leukemia? How could Harry be suffering from the same thing that killed Gideon?

"I can't do this again," Danny sobbed uncontrollably, "I CAN'T FUCKING DO IT! I'VE ALREADY LOST GIDEON TO THIS BULLSHIT! NOW I MIGHT LOSE HARRY TOO? WHAT DID I FUCKING DO TO DESERVE THIS? I'M FUCKING SICK OF HOW EVERY TIME THINGS ARE GOING WELL, SOMETHING HAS TO RUIN IT!"

He launched to his feet, and whirls about in a rage to launch a punch into the bookshelf opposite the front door. I launched forward and grabbed him from behind, wrestling him into an embrace.

"CONNOR, BE CAREFUL!" Jude interjected.

Jude had reason to worry. I could never take Danny in a fight when he was at his best. The brawl the three of were involved in as kids against my old baseball team came to mind, and the image of Danny and his cane sword basically going Jedi on them flashed through my mind.

In Danny's current state, however, he was no match, and I had him under control after fighting him for a few minutes, and he sobbed uncontrollably into my chest.

"I should have noticed it SOONER!" He sobbed, "IT'S THE SAME FUCKING KIND THAT KILLED GIDDY! I CAN'T LOSE HARRY, CONNOR! I CAN'T! I'LL DIE WITHOUT HIM!"

"Harry is not gonna die, Danny." I said sternly, "Do you hear me? There are a lot of new ways to treat this kind of thing. Gideon died fourteen years ago. Harry has a much better chance. You have to have hope, brother. With the money from your bands album and ticket sales, and from Harry's book, you can afford the highest quality treatment. He is NOT gonna die."

"I can't lose him, Connor." Danny sobbed hysterically, "I just can't."

"You won't." I assured him, "We'll be there every step of the way."

"But what if I do?"He whimpered, "He's my husband. He's the love of my life, Connor. I can't live without him."

"Then we'll help you get through it." Jude said, "We'll help you. We'll hold you while you cry, and we'll cry with you just like we did all the years ago when you first told us the story about Gideon. We'll share the grief, just like we always have. Just like we always will."

As I listened to Jude talk, I thought about what he was saying. It was a task easier said than done. Harry was our brother in all but blood. I don't think any of us could bare it if we lost him.

If Harry dies, a large piece of Jude and I will die with him, and if Danny loses him, he'll have nothing to live for. I shared a look with Jude. He nodded at me. He knew what I was thinking, that it wasn't just Harry's life on the line, because if he dies, so does Danny.

"Come on Danny; let's get you to the couch, bud." I said gently, "You need to rest. I'll go down to the hospital and check in on things. Jude'll stay here with you, okay?"

Danny nodded brokenly as I directed him to the couch. I caught Jude's eye, and motioned to our bedroom.

As soon as we were in private, we collapsed against each other and began our own sobbing.

This all seemed like a sick fucking joke. Harry having the same kind of Leukemia that killed his brother? I don't know why, but with us, sometimes it really does seem like it is just one thing after another.

(An: leave reviews. Tell me what you guys think, and prompts are welcome.)


	3. Chapter 3: Good News

Danny's POV:

That day had started off just like any other. Harry had had tests done a few days previous and we were going in to hear the results. The doctor had said on the phone that it was imperative that he meet with us as soon as possible. I was already worried enough. I drove Harry to the hospital for it. We stopped in and saw Connor before he went home for the day, and then we sat in the waiting room until we were called in. I will never forget those words as long as I live. The words the doctor said to me.

"We ran the tests, and we reran them twice." The doctor had said, "I'm sorry, Mr. Kennedy, but we found something."

"What?" Harry asked, his voice trembling in fear while I sat there petrified with terror.

"Your white blood cell count was abnormally high." The doctor said, and my heart fell further, "Added to what you told us about feeling tired all the time as well as the abnormal bruises…"

"No…" I whimpered, and Harry clamped his hand to mine.

"I'm sorry, but all the signs point to the same conclusion." The doctor said softly.

"Just tell me." Harry croaked tearfully, "What do I have?"

The doctor had stared at us for a full minute, his gaze flitting between us filled with regret.

"Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia." The doctor said softly, "I am truly sorry. Has anybody in your family shown signs of this?"

"His twin brother, Gideon. My first boyfriend" I answered shakily while barely maintaining my composure, "He died from it about twenty years ago. I watched him die."

"Well, the good news is that it appears that we've caught it in its early stages." The doctor said gently, "If we start treatment immediately, you stand a relatively good chance of eventually going into remission."

So that's exactly what we did. He didn't even leave the hospital that day. After he was admitted and settled at about three in the morning, Harry and his parents forced me to go home to get a change of clothes and sleep for the night. I didn't even go home. I drove around San Diego in a daze until well into the next day, refueling my truck twice, before I called Connor and asked him if I could come over.

That was a year and a half ago.

It's been a year and a half since Harry was diagnosed with Leukemia, and I went to pieces in the Adams Foster apartment.

Today is April 10th, 2034, and it has been a year and a half since the worst day of my life. I had no idea that it was possible for something to eclipse the day of Gideon's death as the worst, but just my luck that it has to be history repeating itself that takes the fucking cake.

That night was not the last night I would spend on the Jude and Connor's couch crying myself to sleep. Oh, no. Not even close. That was how the rest of the nights that week would end, with me leaving Harry at the hospital with his parents to get his rest, and end up sobbing into one of Connor or Jude's couch pillows, and more than once their shoulders. After the seventh day I had done it that week, I was confronted by Jude.

"Danny, you can't hide from this forever." He told me, "I went to see him, and he is terrified. He needs you. Get your ass dressed, and get your ass home. Shave, shower, get a few changes of clothes and get your fucking ass to the hospital before I shove Connor's old baseball bat up it!"

Needless to say, I agreed, and returned to mine and Harry's house to retrieve a week's worth of clothes, my acoustic guitar and a couple of blank notebooks.

I walked into the hospital room at 11:00 pm, and Harry was crying into his pillow. I walked over to the bed, and crawled in next to him, wrapping my arms around him to draw him close.

"I'm here, beloved." I whispered gently, "I'm not leaving you alone again. We'll get through this, I promise. I will NOT lose you."

After that, I rarely left the hospital. In fact, I practically lived there, and so did Harry's mom and dad. Connor would check in on us every day during his lunch break, and Jude would come up and visit after he got out of work. I left the room maybe twice a day for the first two weeks to go down to the cafeteria to get myself some food. Then I realized just how much I hate hospital food, and I started having Jude bring me food after he got off work. When all my clothes got dirty, Connor would take them home and wash them for me. I insisted on compensating them for their troubles, even though they both protested when I gave them the money.

I spent almost every waking moment at Harry's side after that. I would entertain him while he was awake, and I would write music for the next Iron Will album while he was asleep. Harry's condition and his illness started seeping into the music, and five of the albums twelve songs are about deadly diseases. It was cathartic for me, writing the music. It became one of Harry's favorite things while he was in the hospital, he would listen to me strumming the guitar and allow it to lull him off to sleep. It was also the first time I ever wrote a ballad, which I dedicated to Harry. It was probably the sappiest thing I had ever wrote in my life, but Harry cried when I sung it to him.

It was called "Forever". I wrote it in one sitting, and then set about writing the music to it. I planned to add piano, acoustic bass and drums later, but when the lead acoustic guitar part was finished, I sung it to Harry.

 _ **No more sunshine,  
A life filled with pain.  
Suffering was all I felt,  
And it was driving me insane.**_

 _ **Everything was bathed in darkness,  
A swirling dark whirlpool of sadness.  
I'd lost the one I gave my heart to,  
And now it's shattered on the ground.**_

 _ **Then I was blessed with you,  
And you were cursed with me,  
You've always brought out the best in me.**_

 _ **I fell for you and you fell for me,  
You were the glue that put me back together,  
I'll fight till the death to keep you forever.**_

 _ **Forever.**_

 _ **You were sent from heaven by the grace of god,  
To rebuild a dark and broken soul,  
Whose trauma and days of death gone by  
Had taken an increasing toll.**_

 _ **Your love resealed the cracks left in my heart,  
That his death had ripped and torn apart.  
I'll never be able to repay the debt I owe you,  
So I promise my soul and all I have to you.**_

 _ **I was blessed with you,  
You were cursed with me,  
You've always brought out the best in me.**_

 _ **I fell for you and you fell for me,  
You were the glue that put me back together,  
I'll fight till the death to keep you forever.**_

 _ **Forever**_

Harry was crying by the time I finished singing the song to him, and wrapped me in a hug.

"You say you owe me a debt." Harry whispered to me, "But you forget that I owe you just as much. You will never owe me anything, baby. Ever. All I need from you, is for you to love me, and that's something I know you will never stop doing."

I decided that I didn't care what my band mates said, that song would end up on the next album whether they liked it or not. Not a single one of them protested, and Jude's brother Brandon even offered to help compose the piano parts for the final product. I accepted his proposal without hesitation, and I was floored by what he came up with. It also drew a lot of attention from the media, a world famous composer and pianist like Brandon collaborating with a rock band. The song basically became our _November Rain_.

The song was a number one hit.

After eight months of chemotherapy treatments and other newer treatments, Harry and I were sitting in the hospital room watching television, and the doctor came in, and he looked pleased.

"What is it, doctor?" Harry asked.

"I have good news for you both." The doctor said, "Harry, the treatments appear to be working. In fact, they are working so well that if things continue like this, the soon you won't need to have round the clock care."

It had been so long since I had seen Harry's eyes light up the way they did that day.

After that, I brought him home the next day. I called his parents, who were in Los Angeles at the time, and told them he was coming home and the prospect was looking good. We were met at my house by Jude and Connor, Brandon and his wife Jessica, Mariana and Mat, and Callie and her husband Ronny. About a half hour later, the rest of the band showed up. Then Harry's parents showed up.

The party that followed in celebration was one that could only be described as debaucherous. When the party began, the liquor cabinet was full. When we all came to consciousness the next day, the liquor cabinet was half empty. I forgot what it was like to have a party with Jude and Connor. In high school, they almost never partied. That was always my thing. It was interesting to watch Jude drink almost half a bottle of Grey Goose vodka by himself.

Needless to say, the hangover we were all suffering from the next day was absolutely horrendous.

For the next few months, I would drive him up to the hospital for his chemotherapy treatments, and then take him home and take care of him there afterwards. Eventually, he started to drive himself to his treatments, and I would take care of him when he got home. Connor would always drop in after work to check on him, and every day I thank god that one of my best friends is a doctor.

Now, I sit next to Jude, Connor, and Harry in the waiting room, awaiting the news of the most recent round of tests. I sat praying to whatever deity existed to spare Harry and keep him from dying like Gideon did, like I always did during these meetings. Harry's parents had called and wished him the best of luck, and apologized that they couldn't be there with us because they had to fly back to Scotland to deal with some important business.

"Just keep calm Danny." Harry said weakly, "Everything is gonna be fine."

I knew he was getting better, but it still hurt to hear his voice sounding so weak and tired. He sounded so much like Gideon did, always so optimistic. I offered him a tight smile and reached out and took his hand. I look into his eyes. Inside I didn't see the weak dejection that I remember in Gideon's eyes near the end. I saw a quiet determination.

"I know. I'm trying, beloved." I tell him shakily, "It's just difficult, going through this again."

"We know it's difficult, Danny." Connor interjected, "Hopefully, this'll be the last time we ever have to come in here."

I nodded slowly.

"Yeah, hopefully. I have been praying for that since the day he was diagnosed." I said softly, "I have been praying for mercy, and things have been going so well. But I did that with Giddy too, and the prayers went unanswered. So, my faith is a bit shaken at the moment, and I can't help but feel pessimistic sometimes."

"And you have that right." Jude said empathetically, "But you can't give up hope. We've made it so far, we can't stop now. Everything has gone well so far. Let's hope it stays that way."

"Yeah, seriously," Harry said weakly leaning against me, "I could really use a break. I'm so tired. I'm tired of fighting. I'm ready for this all to be over. I'm ready for it to end, and for things to go back to normal."

I lurched in my seat at hearing him say that, because Giddy had said something very similar the night he died. I shook my head trying to clear the memory away, but it kept coming. I could vaguely hear Jude, Connor, and Harry trying to get my attention as I sunk into my longest recurring nightmare.

 _ **"I don't want to fight anymore, Danny."**_

 _ **"What do you mean, Giddy?"**_

 _ **"I'm so tired. I'm ready for the pain to stop."**_

 _ **"You can't give up."**_

 _ **"I gave up a long time ago. The only reason I held on to life for so long was because I didn't want to leave you here alone. But I don't think I have a choice. It's too late for me, Danny."**_

 _ **"How am I supposed to go on without you? I don't want to live without you. I don't know if I can, baby."**_

 _ **"I... I love you Danny."**_

 _ **"I love you too, Giddy"**_

 _ **"Giddy?"**_

 _ **"G-G-Giddy, d-don't do this to m-me b-baby, please."**_

 _ **"Nonononono, please. P-please w-wake up."**_

 _ **Screaming.**_

I felt a light pressure on my shoulder and it startled me out of my memory. After a second I realized that I had started crying. I looked down to see Connor kneeling in front of me. My best friend stared at me with his wide, compassionate, almost puppy like eyes.

"You alright?" He asked softly.

I felt Jude and Harry rubbing my back, trying to calm me and comfort me.

"Sorry," I choked out sheepishly, "Flashback."

"Of that night?" Harry asked gently.

"When Giddy died, yeah." I confirmed, wiping the tears away furiously, "Sorry, something Harry said triggered it."

"What was that?" Harry asked sadly.

"You saying you were tired of fighting." I answered shakily, "He said that, about six minutes before he died."

Harry winced.

"I'm sorry, Danny." Harry apologized.

"Never be sorry." I said to him sternly, "You never have to apologize to me for anything."

I placed a gentle kiss to his lips. The simple, intoxicating feeling of his lips pressed firmly to mine, imparting his love and adoration in such a simple action brought me happiness and a renewed sense of calm.

Then the doctor walked up, and I immediately tensed.

I stood up, helping Harry to his feet. I was barely aware of Jude and Connor standing with us.

"Mr. and Mr. Kennedy. Good to see you both." The doctor said, and he had a small smile on his face.

"Doctor." I said with a nod, "What did the tests say?"

The doctor stared at us for a second, before sighing and his smile grew.

"His white cell count has normalized. His blood tests are normal." The doctor said, smiling, "All the tests are showing the same thing. He'll have to come in once a month for follow up tests, but at this point…"

I felt my heart leap into my throat.

"You mean?" I start to say hopefully, cutting the doctor off, "He's okay? He's…"

"He's in remission, yes." The doctor informed us happily, "I can't tell you how happy it makes me to tell you both this. The cancer is gone."

It was at that moment that I could feel my knees go out, and I fell to the floor. I started crying, but they were happy tears. I could feel Harry's arms wrap around me

"Thank you god." I gasped out hysterically and clinging to my husband, "Thank you, god."

"We're gonna be okay." Harry whispers happily in my ear, "We're gonna be okay, Danny."

I cling to him, sobbing tears of joy. I could feel Jude and Connor wrap their arms around the both of us, and they both started crying to.

I felt a warmth wash over me, and I knew that in that moment Gideon was watching over us.

My prayers had been answered.


	4. Chapter 4: Stalker

November 15th, 2034.

Danny's POV:

It's been seven months since Harry was given a clean bill of health. In that time, our lives moved forward. Jude continued teaching at Anchor Beach, Connor continued working as a doctor and surgeon at Sacred Cross, Harry continued to enjoy the success of his book, and I continued to record music with my band. Our lives were back on track, but in the back of our minds we couldn't help the vivid sense of dread that settled in all of our subconscious. With our four way track record of attracting trouble, who could blame us for being paranoid? We knew that the calm wouldn't last very long.

We were right. Now, we're onto a new crisis.

Except now, this time, it's not just us. No, this crisis involves the entire city of San Diego. The whole city is enshrouded by a thick cloak of fear and uncertainty that smothers the place. People are terrified to leave their houses at all, and every police department in the state of California is on the highest alert.

It all started less than two weeks after Harry was given a clean bill of health. We were all at Connor and Jude's apartment having dinner when it came on the news. A single body, discovered bound, stabbed and beheaded in an alleyway downtown. The body, they later identified, belonged to twenty two year old Dominic Villars, a young man who worked as a bartender in a well known gay club in downtown San Diego. Jude, Connor, Harry and I were all horrified, but thought nothing of it at first. After all, random things happen every time, no matter how horrific and unfortunate. It didn't necessarily mean anything else.

A week later, the bodies of two more men were discovered in the same condition. Belonging to a young newlywed same sex couple, it was again all over the news. They were found on a construction site. That's when the real fear started to set in. After all, three bodies in less than a month, all beheaded and stabbed, all belonging to male members of the LGBT community. This was no mere coincidence. This was a pattern. The police realized that they were dealing with a serial killer. Stef even came out of retirement to help with the investigation.

In the seven months that have passed, ten bodies in total have turned up. All of them belonging to young gay men who were stabbed and beheaded. The city is in terror, and even Jude and Connor's paranoia has reached near apocalyptic levels. Unbeknownst to me, both had went out and obtained their Concealed Weapons permits like I had done long ago. When the fourth body turned up, Connor called a meeting at the apartment, and when we arrived we found Brandon and Mike helping to install new locks on the front door, along with a new alarm and security system. Harry and I entered the apartment, and we all waited for them to finish the installation and leave before the meeting started.

"Okay, you called us here." I finally stated to break the tense silence, "What did you guys want to talk about?"

Jude and Connor shared a look, and each withdrew their wallets. The removed something from them and showed them to us.

"Concealed weapons permits?" I asked in shock, "But… you both detest guns. Of any kind. And for good reason I might add."

We really did have reason. Connor's been shot, Jude almost shot, I shot somebody who tried to kill Jude during a parking lot brawl years ago. We all have more reason than most to hate guns.

"We do." Connor said softly, his voice wavering, "But with what's going on out there…"

He nodded his head out the window to the city that lay beyond.

"We don't feel safe anymore, Danny." Jude finished his husband's thought, "We're terrified, both of us. Connor won't even use the parking garage at the hospital anymore because he's scared he'll be attacked. When we're not at work or your place, we barricade ourselves in here. We need to be able to defend ourselves if the worst happens."

"I don't want Jude ending up like those poor people on the T.V." Connor said and for the first time I could hear the true and honest dread in his voice, "None of this even seems real. It's like something out of a movie, but the whole city is terrified. I drove past one of the clubs we used to go to downtown, and the place has tripled its security and put metal detectors at the doors."

"We need to do this, and we know you both have permits too." Jude continued, "So we wanted to ask for your help, Danny."

"What do you want me to do?" I asked.

They both reached behind their backs into the waistbands of their pants, and withdrew two objects which they placed on the table next to us.

"How to use these properly." Connor said, "How to use them well."

I shared a look with Harry, and then my attention returned to the pistols that now rested on the table. Despite the gravity of the situation, everything I had in me was telling me to refuse, to argue.

"I haven't fired a gun in over fifteen years, guys." I said softly, "Not since… *sigh* not since we were attacked in high school. I'm probably so rusty, I'd be a worse shot than you both combined."

"Please, Danny." Jude said quietly, "We're scared. Both of us. You're the only person we know who could help us with this."

"What about Stef?" I asked, grasping at straws, "What about Adam? You said once that your dad used to hunt, Connor…"

"Yeah, with a rifle." Connor interjected, "He's never touched a pistol before in his life. Please."

I stared between the two of them, and after a moment's deliberation I sighed and ran my hand through my hair.

"Fine. When and where?" I caved.

We made arrangements to meet at a shooting range two days later.

The next day, I paid a visit to a storage complex where I had been renting a space. I had not been here in about fourteen years. It was about a week after mine and Harry's wedding . I inserted the key into the lock, and turned it. The door slid up, and I stepped into the cluttered room. I let my eyes roam over the contents. A cupboard that I knew contained the sealed bags that contained mine and Harry's wedding tuxedos. I small locked trunk that contained every letter that Harry ever received from Gideon, plus the photo albums. I stepped further inside and shifted a few garbage bags that sat atop the table in the back. Beneath, sat a polished, black painted wood case. I opened the case, and withdrew the contents. I ran my hand over the polished black wood body of the cane, and the polished chromed metal handle. I gripped the handle, and with a twist, I pulled the handle. The blade slid from its scabbard and I stared at the razor sharp reflective metal. My finger ghosted over the name that was engraved into the blade.

"Gideon." I whispered.

I slide the blade back into the scabbard and locked it back into place. I quickly exited the unit, and locked the door behind me and heading home for the night.

The next morning, Harry and I awoke early and headed over to meet Jude and Connor. We met them outside the gun range, and both of them looked nervous.

"Are you two sure about this?" I asked again, trying once again to change their minds, "It doesn't have to be guns you know. I'm gonna be carrying this with me."

I brandished the cane for their observation.

"I taught you guys how to fence when we were teenagers." I reminded them, "You were good."

"Yeah, but a sword isn't gonna help much against somebody with a gun, is it?" Connor reasoned.

"Yeah but the Stalker doesn't use guns." I reminded them, "He uses a machete."

That little fact was delivered to the police by the one person so far to witness him in action. The witness was found dead two days later. So far all we know about the Stalker was that he was male, wore exclusively black, always wore a black balaclava and hooded jacket, and would behead his victims with a machete after stabbing them with a large knife. he would leave a calling card at the scene of each murder. The calling cards always read the same thing: a date and signed as The Stalker.

Anyway, we went inside, and soon enough we were standing at a booth on the range. Connor went first, and I taught him how to hold the gun, then how to load and aim it, then I demonstrated a few times. Connor did pretty well, and although he flinched whenever the gun went off, he did better than I thought he was.

"You okay, Connor?" I asked.

"Y-Yeah, just brings up bad memories, ya know?" He said shakily as he put down his gun and unloaded it, "Reminds me of when I got shot."

I nodded my understanding and patted him on the shoulder before turning to Jude and repeating the whole process.

Jude's first four shots missed.

"Jude, when pulling the trigger, don't jerk the gun." I instructed, "Squeeze the trigger, and exhale as you do it. The shot will be steadier that way, and you won't miss as much. Okay?"

Jude nodded his understanding, and resumed his practicing. His next five shots hit the target, but still only two of them were actually chest shots on the target. He looked discouraged, and sighed with a frown.

"You okay?" I asked him.

"Yeah, just… thought I'd do better." He said softly.

"It's your first time ever shooting a gun, brother." I reminded him, "I didn't expect perfection. I didn't expect you to get headshots every time you pulled the trigger. That would have been remarkable. Even I did didn't do that well when I first shot a gun."

They both looked shocked at that.

We made plans to return to the range in a week's time, and we all went home.

Three days later, we all met up for our usual night out. We went to the bar, had a few drinks, and then went out to eat. We had a grand time, and when it was time for all of us to head home for the night we were all in good spirits.

It didn't stay that way.

We were walking past an alleyway when we heard it.

"HEEEEELP!"

We turned just in time to see a shape emerge from the darkness down the alley.

It was a boy. He looked to be rather young, early teens perhaps. He looked around with wide startlingly blue eyes and as soon as his gaze landed on us he ran for us. He bolted down the alleyway and launched himself at Jude and Connor. He wrapped his arms tightly around Connor's chest, burying his head in Connor's t-shirt.

The boy was perhaps five feet tall, a bit short for his age which I guessed to be in the twelve to fourteen year old range. He was skinny, dangerously so, and it was clear that he was not eating frequently. Across his face were several bruises and cuts, which indicated abuse and neglect. His clothes were old, filthy, and at least two whole sizes too big. His dirty blond hair was filthy and matted, and was as messy as a birds nest.

"Please, you've gotta help me!" The boy sobbed frantically.

"Calm down, kiddo. Tell us what's wrong." Connor said softly, trying to sooth the panicked child.

"He's trying to kill me!" The boy sobbed.

"Who's trying to kill you?" I asked startled, my back turned to the alleyway.

The boy looked back into the alleyway, and his eyes widened and he pointed shakily into it.

"H-Him." He whimpered frightened.

We all turned to look at what he was pointing at. Jude and Connor tensed, and Connor lifted the boy and placed him behind us for protection. Harry moved in front of them, and I took a step forward, my eyes wide.

The man was tall. Dressed head to toe in black. He wore a balaclava, and he wielded a machete.

It was the Stalker.

The boy continued his sobbing. He clung to Connor from behind in horror, and begged for him not to let go.

"Stay behind me." Connor said softly but sternly, "If we tell you to, you run. We'll keep you safe. Got it?"

The boy nodded and looked at the Stalker in horror as the killer looked straight at him and took a step forward.

I drew my blade from its sheathe and pointed it straight at him, steady and level with his throat. Jude and Connor draw there pistols and point them at him shakily.

His head turned and he stared directly at me.

"If you know what's go for you, you'll give me the boy." He growled.

I shivered imperceptibly. I felt rage coursing through my veins as I stared down the slime that had been terrorizing my family and the entire city of San Diego for months.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll turn around and walk away." I countered in a deadpan tone before turning to the other four, "I'll handle this. Jude, call the police."

"None of you are going anywhere." The killer snarled, "That little sodomite deserves everything that's coming to him. If I have to go through you, then so be it."

"You must be either brave or foolish." I sneered, "One crazed lunatic against two armed gay couples. Jude, Connor, Harry?"

"Yeah?" Harry responded, his voice shaking.

I sunk into an offensive stance, my blade directed straight at the Stalker.

"Protect the boy. At any cost." I growled, and stepped forward, "I'll take care of this."

I spun on the balls of my feet, my blade flashing through the air at a diagonal aimed at my opponent's neck. Instead of making purchase with his flesh, it sliced only air as he stepped back a pace causing the slice to miss. I used the momentum to send me into another spin and with a snarl I slashed viscously at his exposed left arm. He turned slightly and parried the blow with his machete.

"BE CAREFUL DANNY!" Jude screamed at me.

He aimed a chop at my face, which I blocked with ease and retaliated with an attempt to stab at his chest, which was also blocked. I swing the sheathe at his head and he ducked it, just barely blocking the blow to his leg that my sword was close to making. Again and again, we slashed and hacked at each other, parrying and retaliating, and trying to land a blow on the other. Again and again he tried to inch toward Connor, Jude and Harry, who still stood guarding the child. I continued to push him away from them. His form was sloppy and uncoordinated. He was basically as skilled in this style of fighting as a gorilla wailing at a target with a baseball bat. Our duel continued uninterrupted for almost ten minutes. I was basically playing with him until the cops arrived, and when from behind us I heard the wail of police car sirens ring out, I decided that it was time to end this.

The police had arrived, and I saw the Stalker's eyes widen in fear and rage, and he raised his machete above his head and chopped it down, aiming to split my head, but my sword rose to meet it. The blades met with a clang, and we locked swords momentarily. I broke the lock and stepped back spinning and placing a round house kick to his chest, which sent him to the ground and sent his machete flying behind him. He started crawling towards it, but I kept up the assault. I swung the sword at him continuously, and he rolled and dived out of the way so that it kept clanging off the ground.

He reached his machete, and raised it just in time to block a chop at his chest as he got to his feet. I aimed a slash at his leg, which he moved to block, but I feinted and redirected the blow to his shoulder. The blow landed, slicing through the skin of his shoulder. He let out a scream of pain and barely managed to intercept the next blow. Our blades locked, and with a bust of force I shoved the blade of the machete to the side and slashed sideways at his face. Again, contact was made, slicing through his balaclava and the skin beneath it. It sent him back, clutching his face. I brought the cane body up, and it collided with the back of his head, sending him to the ground unconscious.

Everything was silent. I produced a handkerchief from my pocket and wiped the blood from the blade of the sword. I slid it back into its sheathe, locking it into place. I barely noticed the cops rushing forward and securing the bastard, ripping the balaclava from his head and handcuffing is hands behind his back. I turned back to my best friends and my husband.

Connor was still being clung to by the kid, who was looking at me with wide disbelieving eyes. I cautiously approached the group, and I turned to Harry. I held my arms out and motioned for him to come to me. He moved forward without hesitation and wrapped his arms around me. I placed a kiss to the side of his head. I let go of him and moved to kneel before the boy who still stood with his face buried in Connor's chest.

"You alright, kiddo?" I asked.

The boy peaked at me, and nodded shakily.

"Good." Connor said gently, regaining his attention, "Let's get you to a doctor yeah? You look like you're gonna pass out."

The boy looked terrified for a moment, but knew that he wasn't going to get out of it.

"Don't worry, bud." I assured him, "My friend here? He's a doctor. One of the best in the city. We'll take care of you. I promise."

The boy looked at all of us cautiously for a moment before nodding.

"Okay." He whimpered.

"You have a name, buddy?" Jude asked.

The boy looked at us, still cautious.

"M-Mikey. My name's Mikey."


	5. Chapter 5: Broken

Connor's POV:

We spent the next few hours at the police station getting everything in order. Since Jude and I are registered foster parents, Mikey was released into our custody until his parents could be found. Stef promised to get in touch when they found out more about who the kid actually was. They took his fingerprints and a blood sample for a DNA match, and then they needed to take our statements for the encounter and Danny's duel with the Stalker.

After the police took our statements, we immediately headed for the hospital. When we got to Sacred Cross, we tried to get Mikey to go with a doctor for an examination, but he absolutely refused and latched onto me with a vice grip. I looked down into the boy's eyes and could see nothing but sheer terror.

"Buddy, we need to examine you to make sure you're alright." I tried to reason with him.

He buried his head in my chest and shook violently. I looked up, shooting Jude and Danny a panicked look, completely clueless about what to do. It was Harry who supplied the solution.

"What if Connor gives you the examination?" He asked.

I shot him a look and opened my mouth to argue. I had been trained to give this kind of exam, but I had yet to give one because I haven't had a patient that needed one.

"O-Okay."

I looked down into Mikey's face.

"Are you sure, buddy?" I asked cautiously.

He nodded shakily.

"Okay, if that's what you want." I conceded, "Follow me."

I walked him into the examination room, and closed the door behind me.

An hour later, I walked out of the examination room. It was the hardest hour I think I've ever endured. Everything I had learned during the exam was bouncing around in front of my eyes, and I was a mix of angry and horrified. I walked up to Jude and wrapped him in a hug.

"You okay?" He asked.

"I never want to have to do something like that again." I said shakily, "That was horrible."

"What did you find out?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but I was interrupted.

"Jude? Connor?"

We turned to see Stef walking down the hallway, carrying a file in her hand and in uniform. I felt a sense of relief washing over me, knowing that her arrival had bought me a few minutes of not talking about it.

"Mom, what are you doing here?" I asked.

"You told me to inform you on what we found out about Mikey." Stef said, "I brought his file. His fingerprints were logged with CPS."

I raised an eyebrow.

"The kid has a file?" I asked, "He was in foster care?"

"He used to be." Stef explained as she , "His name is Michael Wilson Baxter. He was born in San Francisco on October 15th, 2020."

"Fourteen years, and on month exactly." I commented, "When did he go into foster care?"

"He was six years old." Stef said.

"What happened?" Jude asked.

Stef sighed sadly, her eyes tearing up.

"You okay, mom?" Jude asked.

"Yeah, it's just a really sad story. I spoke to the social worker and got the full story." Stef said with another sigh, "He had a great family. He was born via surrogate, and he had two dads. George and Eyan Baxter. They were childhood sweethearts. When Mikey was four years old, George was diagnosed with an aggressive form of leukemia. They tried everything, but nothing worked, and eventually George fell into depression, and unbeknownst to everybody else, he became suicidal."

"Oh no." I said sadly.

"Yeah. One day, George disappeared from the hospital." Stef continued, "And after a five hour search of the city, they found him dead in the bathroom of their house. He'd taken a half a bottle of painkillers and drank it down with Vodka. It was January 7th 2025. After that, Eyan lost his mind. He got roaring drunk every chance he got, and eventually he was deemed unfit to be a parent after the teacher noticed that Mikey had lost a lot of weight and wasn't being fed properly. Mikey was removed from his custody and taken into foster care on December 11th 2026. Eyan acknowledged that he needed help, and had himself committed to a mental hospital up north. He changed his surname back to his birth name, Crowley. He asked Mikey's social worker to keep him updated on his condition. When he found out about Mikey disappearing, he lost it again. The social worker described him as a broken shell. He could leave at any time he wanted, but he hasn't."

Jude and I shared a look, and we both knew that we were going to paying this man a visit to inform his that his son was alive.

"Okay, have you contacted Mikey's foster parents?" Jude asked.

"That's just it." Stef said with a sigh, "He disappeared from his last foster home when he was ten years old. He ran away, and from what we could find out he hasn't been seen since."

"Why did he run away?" I asked.

"The foster parents were investigated after he ran away." Stef said, reading from the file, "The foster father was arrested after one of the other foster kids came forward and told the truth. The father had… *Sigh*, he'd been molesting them."

Jude's knuckles cracked as he clenched his fists as hard as humanly possible, I assume to tame the urge to punch something which I knew he was feeling because of the slight twitch of his eye.

"SO, on top of living through hell, he's been living on the streets for four years?" Jude asked with a horrified growl, "How the hell is he still alive?"

"From the looks of him, he almost hasn't." I commented, referring to what I had seen during the examination I had just given him.

"What do you mean?" Jude asked.

"I was going to tell you what I saw in the examination." I said, "If that kid would've spent another week or two on the street, he wouldn't have made it."

"Are you serious?" Stef asked.

"Dead serious." I said, "The things this kid has been through… It horrifies me."

"Like what?" Jude asked.

"Well, for starters, he's severely malnourished and he's underweight." I listed while reading the notes off the clipboard, "The kid weighs 79 pounds. Average weight at his age is about a hundred pounds. He's very paranoid, I noticed that he kept the exits to the room in sight at all times. I believe the only reason he allowed me to do the exam is because we all were the ones who saved him. Anyway, the x-rays show that several of his ribs have been previously broken and were untreated at the time, so they didn't heal properly. He's had cracked ribs, but those were treated. He has bruising all over his body, primarily to his chest and back. I tried to get him to talk to me, and I couldn't get him to say much. We had to sedate him for the final part of the exam."

"Why?" Stef asked.

"Had to check for signs of sexual abuse." I said shakily, wringing my hands, "He has extensive bruising, and it was recent."

"How recent?" Stef asked.

"Can't be more than a day old." I said finally, trying to stop myself from cringing, "I would try to ask him about it, but like I said, we had to sedate him and I doubt he'll talk about it."

Stef nodded.

"Are you two sure you can deal with this?" She asked, "I know you've agreed to take him in until his foster parents were found, but now that you know about what happened… what are you gonna do? Are you gonna foster him, or…"

"Yes. We'll take care of him." Jude said, "He can still stay with us. It isn't even a question."

"While he is still sedated," I said cautiously, "I want to pay his father a visit. Mikey should be out for the rest of the day, so we should be okay."

"I agree."

We said goodbye to Stef, who agreed to sit with Mikey while we were gone.

A few hours later, we arrived at the mental hospital. We had called ahead and were met at the front door by a nurse, who directed us to a room on the second floor.

The room was lit only by the sunlight the shone through the window. We could hear rock music being played from what we presumed was an old iPhone, and we heard the distinct sound of a pencil scratching away at a piece of paper. The room contained a bed, and in front of the window was a desk with a sole arm chair in front of it, and the large arm chair blocked our view of the man sitting in it.

"Mr. Crowley? The visitors you were told about?"

The scratching of the pencil ceased, and we saw a hand extend and place a stick of drawing charcoal in a coffee mug that was full of drawing implements.

"Leave us."

The first thought was that this person had one of the deepest voices I'd ever heard.

The chair pushed away from the desk, and the man stood and turned to us.

He was a lager man, and he was tall. Very tall. Over six and a half feet tall. He was dressed in black sweatpants, and a black t-shirt. He was wearing a pair of round frame glasses, and his curly brown hair was tied back in a pony tail. His bear was thick, and it was clear that he hadn't shaved in a very long time. Calculating, cold blue eyes stared at us, looking us up and down.

"What do you want?" Eyan asked monotonously.

"We're here to talk to you about your son." I said gently.

"I don't know where he is." Eyan said sadly, "I wish I did."

"We weren't going to ask you that." I said.

"Are you aware of the situation in San Diego?" Jude asked.

"What? About that psycho running around chopping people up?" Eyan deadpanned and stood and turned back to the window, "Of course I'm fucking aware of it. Every police department on the western seaboard is losing its shit because of it. What does that have to do with me or Michael?"

"The Stalker almost killed him last night." I said bluntly, not knowing another way to break the news.

Eyan froze in place, and after a moment he turned back to us. His eyes were wide, and in them I could see fear.

"Is he…?" He started to ask.

"He's alive." I answered, "He ran up to us screaming for help, and our friend Danny fought him until the cops got there. He'll be staying with us once he's been released from the hospital."

Eyan's shoulder's sagged in relief, and he grabbed the chair and turned it down to face us.

"Oh thank god." He breathed, dropping into the chair with a sigh, "Why are you two here, if he's okay?"

"I'm a doctor." I revealed, "I work at Sacred Cross in San Diego. During the examination I gave him at the hospital, he was screaming for his father. We had to sedate him. You're his father, and I thought you deserved to know the state your son is in.

"What state?" He asked.

"I'm sorry to tell you this… but he's been abused." I said, "Emotionally, physically… and sexually."

Eyan stared at us through wide eyes. The back of his head landed against the chair with a thump.

"I never knew…" Eyan said brokenly, "The social workers never told me any of that.

"Why did you fall apart so badly?" Jude asked, "I mean, I get grief. I lost my brother. Our friend Danny lost his childhood friend and first boyfriend. But, you really lost it…"

"I know it doesn't excuse my actions, but when I lost Georgie again, my s-soul b-broke." Eyan said, his voice haunted, "Im guessing you all had people to help you cope with your grief? I didn't. I had nobody. My family's all dead, and I never had many friends worth a damn, and under the weight of my grief I broke. My mind shattered. Literally. I started hearing shit, seeing things that weren't there, and I tried to drown my sorrow in booze. I couldn't function anymore. It took losing Mikey to snap me back to some form of sanity, and by then the damage had been done. It took a long time for me to be even close to okay, and by the time I was stable enough to try to get custody of him back, he'd disappeared."

"Wait, what do you mean you lost him _again_?" Jude asked him confused.

"Georgie was my everything." Eyan said softly, "He was the first boyfriend I ever had. I met him in seventh grade when I was twelve, and we started dating a month and a half later. We were both outsiders, and I was bullied a lot. So was he. We went to war against our bullies, pranking them at every turn, fighting back. I developed a crush on him, and I found out it was mutual. It lasted until Christmas break of eighth grade. I know people say that it's impossible to fall in love at that age, but that's fucking bullshit, because I DID. I loved him more than anything. We went to the mall on a date on day, and we had a fight. A really loud fight. Some asshole overheard it, and after I stormed off and left Georgie there alone, the guy beat the crap out of him. I found out and went to see him in the hospital. He had brain damage… didn't even know who I was. A week later his parents announced that they were moving out of state and having him transferred to a different hospital out of state. I never got to say goodbye."

He looked out the window of the room, drawing a calming breath.

"By the beginning of my freshman year, my whole personality shifted." Eyan continued, "I used to a near perfect example of a walking gay stereotype. Flamboyant, lisp, expensive designer clothes, hummed Defying Gravity from Wicked under my breath, perfectly styled hair, a pranking streak. After I lost him, I changed. I walked into school the first day of ninth grade and I was unrecognizable."

"How so?" I asked curiously.

He stared at us for a moment, and then gasped a laugh.

"What's so funny?"

"I've already told you more than I've ever told my therapists here." He commented dryly, "It's kind of funny."

"What can I say?" I said, "I'm easy to talk to."

"No kidding." Eyan agreed, "Anyway. To answer your question? I was unrecognizable for a lot of reasons. I gained a lot of weight, so I looked very different. I let my hair grow out into a mop and dyed it black. Instead of show tunes I listened to metal. I've always had a trick voice, so I taught myself how to speak without the stupid lisp. Instead of flashy designer clothes, I was wearing a leather jacket, black combat boots, black skinny jeans, and a Misfits band t-shirt. Instead of flamboyant, I was scary. Instead of mischievous, I was violent. I was like that for a long time."

"How did you get back together with George then?" I asked, too curious not to.

Eyan smiled. His face transformed when he smiled. His eyes lit up, and his toothy grin shaved off years.

"I was walking into a movie theatre." Eyan continued, "I got my ticket, and I was walking into the theatre, and I literally walked right into him. Popcorn and slushie go flying, and as soon as I see who it was I'd bumped into, I froze and so did he. I could tell by the look on his face that he remembered me. When he said my name, I broke down crying, and he hugged me. We talked for hours, and I missed the movie I had came to see so I threw away the ticket stub. When he left, I walked him to his car, and he gave me a hug and a kiss goodbye. I drove home in a stupor, and was emptying my pockets, and I found the ticket stub that I had thrown away at the theatre. He had taken the ticket stub out of the garbage and written his number on the back of it. I called him. After a couple of months, we decided that we wanted to give US another shot. We did long distance for about a year before he moved back to live with me. We got married, and in 2020 we had Mikey by a surrogate. I had everything I'd ever wanted. I had my soul mate back, I had a wonderful son who I adored, and then Georgie was diagnosed. Then he got depressed. By the time I lost him, I was already walking the border between sanity and insanity. His suicide was just the push to send me over the edge."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that." Jude said sympathetically.

"You know the weird thing?" Eyan asked, "I actually feel a little better now. Now that I know Mikey is safe and I've gotten this off my chest… I feel freer."

"That's good."

Eyan eyed us for a second before speaking again.

"Do you think I could see him?" He asked nervously, "I'm here of my own volition, so I can leave whenever I want, and I won't cause him any harm, I promise."

Jude and I looked at each other for a moment before we nodded.

"Just give me ten minutes." He said, walking into his bathroom.

Jude and I looked at each other, and waited.

Ten minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom, and he looked like a completely different man. His beard was gone, and his hair was slicked back with gel.

"I'm ready." He said, "Sacred Cross in San Diego, right?"

We nodded.

"I'll follow you there." He said, "Let's get out of here."

 **This chapter, is dedicated to my recently deceased boyfriend Richard, who died by suicide on February 7th after losing hope while fighting cancer** **.**


	6. Chapter 6: Dark

**AN: I know the content of Mikey's back-story in this chapter seems darker than what I would usually write. My mood has been deteriorating for the past month since my boyfriend died and that's seeping into my writing, and the new episode hasn't done me any favors. While I may continue to write Fosters Fanfiction, at least until all of my active fics are completed, I will most likely not be watching the show anymore. Now that the show has done away with one of the two characters and the only relationship I truly identified with, I don't really see the need to continue watching. If they bring Connor back in the future I will start watching again, even if they have to recast him like they did with Jesus.**

Connor's POV:

We drove most of the way back to San Diego in silence, staring out the windshield at the back if Eyan's old white Bug. We were dumbfounded to find that Eyan's car was a picture perfect replica of Herbie the Love Bug. When he approached the car and inserted the key into the car door, Jude and I both stared at him with raised eyebrows for a moment before snickering. He looked at us sheepishly.

"A Herbie. Really?" I asked.

"Mikey used to watch the original movies." Eyan said softly, "Georgie bought them on Blu-Ray once. Mikey loved them. I've had this car for a long time. Mikey saw it on the side of the road, and I couldn't say no. So, I bought it and fixed it up. He used to play around in it. Talk to it. Treated it like it was alive like it was in the movies. I used to think it was adorable. After everything that happened… I couldn't bear to get rid of it."

"Oh." I thought to myself, "Well, now I feel bad for snickering."

When we arrived at the hospital, we hurried into an elevator and up to the floor that Mickey was on. When we led Eyan into the room, we stood in front of Mikey's bed. Eyan stood by his son's side, staring down at the boy with eyes that broadcasted his sadness, anger, and horror. He lifted a shaking hand and brushed his son's bangs out of his closed eyes. He exhaled a shuddering breath, and backed away from the bed and turned to us. I could see in his eyes that what he was seeing was haunting him.

"Dear god." He muttered.

Jude and I stood on the other side of the hospital bed, and we stared at Eyan as he stood there observing his sleeping son. His blue eyes were wide and sad as they ran over Mikey's sleeping form. As he continued to observe, his eyes narrowed and his eyebrows furrowed. The sadness was replaced by anger, and his eyes went from sad to cold as ice. He growled. He reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a polished silver flask. He unscrewed the cap and raised it to his lips, but before he could take a drink, he hesitated. He stared at the flask for a minute, before shaking his head. He turned around towards the sink, and upturned the flask, dumping the amber liquid contained within into the sink until it was drained. He replaced the cap on the flask and put it back in his pocket. He looked at us and sighed.

"Sorry about that." He said, "That, uh… still happens sometimes. I'm usually able to stop myself."

We didn't offer a response, because truthfully we didn't know what to say to him. Part of me wanted to scold the man for nearly relapsing into the thing that had caused the mess in the first place, but another part of me told me to let it slide. Neither Jude nor I had ever suffered through the kind of things that this man had. Jude's experiences in foster care where traumatic, sure. Sure, with everything that happened when we were teenagers, our experience could barely be called boring, but somehow what Eyan had been through seemed worse, and I didn't have to ask Jude to know he would agree with me.

"I've imagined this for a long time." He continued, "I've dreamed of what it'd be like to see him again… but this? This is all my fault. If it wasn't for me, he wouldn't be like this."

Jude and I shared a look. I noticed a similarity between Eyan and Danny. They both blamed themselves for things that they couldn't change.

"If I hadn't lost my marbles after George died, he would never have gone through this." Eyan muttered angrily.

"You couldn't have known. Hindsight is always 20/20." Jude commented.

"Perhaps. But that's no excuse." Eyan retorted.

"You two said that you were willing to foster him." Eyan said softly, "You'll take care of him?"

"Of course we will." Jude promised.

"Good. He deserves it. He deserves better than me." Eyan mumbled sadly.

He glanced at his hand, and then he pulled a ring off of his left middle finger. He stared at the ring for a moment before holding it out to us, dropping it into my waiting palm.

"Give that to him. It was my granddads." Eyan said, "Been in the family for a hundred years. It's his now."

"He'll get it. I promise." I assured.

"Tell him I'm sorry." Eyan begged tearfully, "That I'm sorry I couldn't be the dad he deserves."

"We will."

Eyan nodded and slowly inched his way toward the door.

"And Eyan?" Jude called out, "Take care of yourself."

Eyan paused in his step and nodded.

"I'll try. Just take care of my son. I love you Mikey." He said softly.

"Bye Dad." A soft voice whimpered as Eyan walked out of the door.

Jude and I froze. We looked at each other for a moment, before our attention turned back to Mikey. He was lying in the bed, and he was awake. He had heard everything that we had just said. Heard what his Dad had said. He was observing us cautiously; almost like prey would look at a predator that was preparing its final assault.

"How much did you hear?" Jude asked.

"Enough." Mikey responded.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Do I look like I'm okay?" Mikey sassed.

Jude smirked and opened his mouth to retort, but I nudged him and shook my head. He raised an eyebrow at me and I glared back at him, communicating nonverbally that now was not the appropriate time to get into a battle of sass with a child. It was something he could rarely resist. It was so common in the early days of our relationship for us to partake in the activity that I always used to joke with him that battles of sass were part of a Judicorn's mating ritual. Jude always slapped me for it too (albeit not very hard) while Danny lost his shit laughing at us.

Jude rolled his eyes, conceding defeat and we both sat down at his bedside.

"We just asked, because you've been through a great deal." I answered diplomatically, "You were attacked by a psycho yesterday, and if anything I saw during the examination was an indicator… then you, my little friend, are most likely far from alright."

"I'm fine." Mikey said coldly, "You don't have to pretend to care."

"I don't pretend to care." I responded, "If I didn't care, I wouldn't have asked."

"That's what they always say." Mikey retorted, "My _foster parents_. Most of them only ever did it for the money. They always started that way! They always got worse. They act kind and they act concerned and compassionate for a week or two, just long enough to lure you into a false sense of security…"

"And then they flip on the dime, and the beatings begin?" Jude interrupted calmly, "Yeah. I know what you mean, kid. All too well. They always had an ulterior motive, right?"

Mikey looked at Jude, his eyes widened a bit from surprise. After a moment he nodded.

"Exactly… but, how did you know?"

"I was a foster kid once too. My sister Callie and I." Jude revealed, "From the time I was six until I was adopted at 12 years old. Six years of absolute hell. In on home, they didn't feed us enough. I remember being so hungry and desperate for food that I gnawed through a raw potato. Another home, my sister was raped. One home, the kids would put stuff in our food that could make us sick. My last home, my foster father caught me trying on an old dress out of curiosity and he tried to beat me to death."

Mikey stared at Jude quietly.

"I-I'm sorry." He finally said.

"Don't be. It all turned out okay in the end." Jude answered, "I was adopted by a wonderful family, and I fell in love with my best friend at only thirteen years old. I wouldn't change a word of my story. Not one second. Not one day. I just want you to know that we really want to help you. That we have no ulterior motives. We're not going to let anybody hurt you again. I understand that it's hard for you to believe. I remember what it was like. The feeling of distrust towards adults, the people who in my mind had failed me on so many occasions. It was hard to get over that, but I did. You will too, because we're gonna help you."

"Why would you want to?" Mikey asked, looking down in shame, "You know what I went through in my last home. What I did while on the streets… I'm tainted.

"Mikey, what the sick bastard did to you was not your fault." I assured him, sternly but gently, "As for what happened on the streets, I've been meaning to talk to you about that. During the examination, I noticed severe bruising… down there, that was relatively recent. Within the last three days."

Mikey looked down in shame.

"Mikey. You can tell us what happened." Jude promised, "You can't bottle these things up."

"I only did what I had to do to survive." Mikey burst out, "Only when I was starving, o-or freezing. I didn't want to do those things, but I didn't know another way!"

Jude and I stared at him for a second, and then we shared a look. From the glint of horror in his eyes, I knew Jude understood what Mikey was saying. He was saying that he'd been used.

"When I ran away, I didn't think ahead." Mikey rambled, "I had nowhere to go. No money. I didn't know what else to do. I ran away to get away from a molesting foster parent, and ended up in a worse version of the same hell. I know you two want to help me, and that I shouldn't be so cautious about you, but it's happened before, after I ran away. This guy took me in off the streets. He fed me. Gave me a bed to sleep in. It was good until… it started. He would force me to do things. It lasted a month before I couldn't take it anymore. I ran. The next day I was wandering through the city and the Stalker came after me. Then I met you and your friends, and your friend dueled him and beat him. You guys saved me. Where are they anyway? The guy who fought him."

I sat on the edge of the bed, and slowly reached out to draw the boy into a hug without spooking him.

"That's our old friend Danny." Jude explained, "He would have stayed, but his band is due to start a tour tomorrow and he has to prepare for it."

"Oh, he's THAT Daniel Evans?" Mikey asked.

Jude bit back the snort that usually appeared whenever this situation arose. He always found it supremely amusing when people recognized Danny on the streets for his work in his band. We always joked that it only served to unnecessarily inflate his ego, to which Danny would retort that Harry was more than enough to keep his ego in check.

"Yeah, buddy." I said, "He's that Daniel Evans."

"My name is Mikey. Not buddy." Mikey deadpanned.

"Sorry."

"Don't be, just…" Mikey said, "Just give me some time to get used to you two being my foster parents. I haven't had anybody around to care about me in a long time."

"We know. And we will." Jude promised, "It took me about a month before I got used to my family. We don't expect you to start calling us Dad or anything like that. Take all the time you need. We won't rush you. And if you ever need anything, whether it is to talk to us, to vent or whatever else, all you have to do is ask. Okay?"

Mikey nodded.

"Okay."


	7. Chapter 7: Opening Up

Chapter 7

It's been a month since we brought Mikey home with us, and his attitude towards us has only just began to thaw to a temperature that is anything more than sub-glacial. We had him enrolled at Anchor Beach after we discovered that despite his lack of attendance at any form of school over the past few years, he was still wicked smart. He took the required tests, and he entered the eighth grade with no problem. For the first week of his staying with us, if he wasn't at the kitchen table eating or at school he stayed shut up in his room, sitting in a recliner with his new iPhone and his headphones in his ears with the music turned up. Despite the overwhelming urge I felt to try and get him to open up, I resisted temptation because Jude said that it would only serve to exacerbate the situation and cause Mikey to withdraw further into himself than he already had.

"He's been through hell, Connor." Jude had said sternly, "When he's ready, he'll open up to us, but not a second sooner. We can't force him to do it."

"How long did it take you to warm up to Stef and Lena?" I had asked.

"Couple of days to be honest, but Mikey isn't like I was though." Jude reminded me, "He's like Callie was back then. They both faced sexual abuse as well as mental and physical. As bad as my experience was, I was never raped or molested. Just give him time."

So, that's exactly what I did.

When I got home that day, Jude was laying on the couch asleep with Auggie perched imperiously on Jude's blanket covered ankle. The tiny dog leapt down from the couch and trotted over to where I stood by the door and sat down with a cute plop and stared up at me.

"Human... Why aren't you petting me yet?" Auggie's wide glittering puppy eyes asked sassily.

I smiled down at him, but made no move to pet him.

He continued to stare, but he fidgeted impatiently.

I raised an eyebrow at him.

He cocked his head and huffed a whining bark at me.

I smiled, and lent down and picked him up. He immediately tucked his head under my chin. I looked at Jude with a small smile on my face. I walked over to where he lay, and leaned down to place a kiss on his forehead. He snorted in his sleep, and I snickered. Auggie wormed his way out of my grip and dropped onto the couch, where he snuggled up to Jude and burrowed into the blanket. I guessed that Mikey was in his room, because that was where he usually was. I tiptoed down the hallway and when I approached the door I could hear music coming through the door. I eased the door open silently to peek inside.

Mikey sat cross legged on the bed, holding an old acoustic guitar and strumming softly. I had no idea that he could actually play the old thing. It was one of Danny's old ones that Danny had given to Mikey instead of throwing it out. Mikey had been thrilled. I recognized the tune he was playing. It was _Stairway to Heaven_ by Led Zeppelin. I stood there and observed him. He looked completely at peace. He was relaxed for the first time I could remember seeing him.

"There's a lady who's sure, that all that glitters is gold, and she's buying a stairway to heaven…" He sang softly under his breath, but his singing stopped when he played a wrong note on the guitar and he cursed under his breath, "Dammit."

I snickered, and his head shot up and stared at me.

"Sorry to spy, but I couldn't help myself." I said with a smile on my face, "Been learning to play, I see."

He stared at me cautiously for a second before he relaxed.

"Yeah. Slowly." He said, "I've learned a couple of things."

"Like what?" I asked, genuinely interested.

"Um… Here Comes the Sun by the Beatles," He replied, "316 by Van Halen. I know the beginning of Love Song by Tesla. I know Whiskey Lullaby too. That's the only song I know in full."

"That's good." I said, "It's good to have a hobby. I used to know how to play bass, myself."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Knew half the Beatles discography on it, too." I said with a small smile, "I don't know if I still could, it's been so long since I picked it up."

"Did J-Jude ever play an instrument?" He asked.

"He used to play around with my dad's old drum kit during the first couple years I knew him, but he got bored with it." I said, "He had other hobbies. He wrote a lot of things, and he was good at it. That's part of why he became an English teacher. He wanted to work with kids, and English had been his favorite subject, well mostly..."

"Mostly?" Mikey asked.

"He hated Shakespeare." I said, "Having to read it in class was torture for him. Funny thing is... we read a few of the plays they made us read a few years later. They're actually enjoyable when your fricken English grade isn't in danger of tanking because of them."

"I like Shakespeare." Mikey admitted quietly, "Much Ado About Nothing was my favorite."

"Jude's was Romeo and Juliet." I said, and Mikey snorted, "I know, I know. It is cliché, but it is. Jude's brother Brandon wrote a rock musical based around it for his senior project. Danny was in it, he played Tybalt and he helped choreograph the sword fight between Mercutio and Tybalt, and then the one between Romeo and Tybalt. It was impressive to watch."

"Yeah… where did he learn to use a sword like that?" Mikey asked.

"His dad taught him, I think." I said, trying to remember the specifics, "Wherever he learned it, he's saved four people with that sword cane of his. So he learned a useful skill."

"Who did he save?" Mikey asked.

"He saved Jude and me with it once." I recalled, "Back in high school. My old teammates on my old baseball team came after Jude in force. Cornered him at the mall, and attacked him. Danny stepped in until I could get there, and he saved us both that day. Then… well, he saved you. He saved us all that day from the Stalker. If Danny had fallen, he would have came after all of us next."

"So, he's like a real life Jedi?" Mikey asked in summary.

I snorted an amused laugh.

"I guess you could say that… but he'd be a grey Jedi." I corrected playfully, "He's scary as hell when he's pissed. We all are, really."

Mikey flinched, which I didn't miss.

"We never direct our anger at somebody who doesn't deserve it." I immediately said, "I promise you that. Nobody'll ever lay a hand on you in malice again, without paying with their heads."

Mikey observed me curiously for a moment, searching for any sign of dishonesty or deception. He found none.

"You… you really mean that." He decided.

"Of course I do." I said softly, "You'll always be safe here. At the very least, the locks on the front door should keep any unwanted people out."

He snorted at my joke.

"Yeah, eight locks are a bit obsessive." He pointed out with a giggle.

"What can I say?" I asked, "When the Stalker happened, Jude and I got paranoid. Very paranoid. Too paranoid."

"Hey, a little paranoia is fine." Mikey interjected, "It's healthy, it keeps you on your toes. Helped me survive the streets. Too little paranoia is stupidity, and too much paranoia is insanity."

I stared at him for a second.

"You should write that down." I told him, "Because truer words have never been spoken."

He stared ahead for a few seconds, his eyes going blank.

"You okay?" I asked, just now noticing how tired he actually looked, "You look exhausted, buddy."

"I know." He said, "I haven't been sleeping well the last couple of weeks."

The one thing I noticed was that he didn't glare at me for calling him "buddy".

"Nightmares?" I asked.

He looked at me for a second, before nodding.

"Yeah… I keep seeing the Stalker and the people who… who used me." Mikey admitted shakily, "Every time, I scream, as loud as I can, but nobody hears me. I only wake up when the Stalker's machete lands or… or when they finish with me."

"You'll never have to do anything like that again, you know that right?" I asked him, "You have a home now. You're safe. Jude and I would never do that to you. His sister was a lot like you. She was raped in foster care."

"Yeah, you said that." Mikey said, "Do you thing I could talk to her sometime? I feel like… like it might help."

"Of course you can." I agreed, "It might not be soon, though, considering she lives in a different part of the state. But I will definitely talk to her about it. I wouldn't be surprised if she drove down especially for it. She's eager to meet you."

"She is?" Mikey asked, sounding genuinely shocked.

"Of course she is." I told him, "The whole family is. You already met one of Jude's moms."

"I have? And wait… Moms?" Mikey asked curiously.

"He has two. Stef and Lena." I explained, "Stef is the blonde police officer that was at the hospital with us that day."

"Oh… who else is there?" Mikey asked.

"On Jude's side of the family?" I asked, "We have Jude's moms. His oldest brother Brandon is Stef's biological son. His second older brother Jesus died when Jude was thirteen…"

"How did he die?" Mikey asked.

"Car accident." I said, "Jude has two older sisters as well. Mariana, Jesus's twin sister, is the sassiest woman you will ever meet. She has an iron wit and a sharp tongue. She can eviscerate anybody with words alone. You'd like her. She's wicked smart too. Crazy good with computers. Works for Apple now and she makes more money than anybody in the family, except for me. I think. Callie is quick to anger, and fiercely loyal to people she cares about. She, Jude and I have that in common. She works for CPS up near Sacramento."

"What about on your side?" Mikey asked.

"Oh, it's just my dad." I said softly, "You'll meet him eventually."

"What about your mom?" He asked.

"Uh… she and I don't speak. We haven't seen each other or even spoken each other since I was eighteen."

"Why?"

"She is almost cartoonishly homophobic." I said, "She tried to beat me up when she found out Jude and I were dating. Jude's pointed a knife at her twice. She tried to round up a protest to crash our wedding…"

"Are you fricken serious?" Mikey asked with wide eyes full of disgust.

"Yeah, I know. Danny scared them off." I said, "I have no idea where my mother is now. I keep an eye out for her wherever I go, just in case."

"Danny's pretty much your guardian angel, then. Isn't he?" Mikey asked.

I stopped for a moment to think about it. If it wasn't for Danny, Jude and would have both likely died years ago. Without Danny, we definitely wouldn't still be together, or let alone married.

"Yeah. I guess he is." I agreed softly, "I owe him so much… I'll never be able to repay him what I owe him."

"I like him." Mikey stated.

"Yeah… me too."

Mikey stared at me for a second.

"This is the longest conversation we've ever had." Mikey said with a small smile.

"Yeah. I know." I said with a smile of my own, "It's nice."

"Yeah. It is." Mikey agreed with a small relaxed smile.


	8. Chapter 8: From Darkness Comes Light

Chapter 8:

The Saturday morning started off just like any other. Connor and I got up and had breakfast with Mikey. We greeted Mariana, who made it a point to spend as much time with Mikey as possible and had agreed to "babysit" him on the Saturdays when neither of us was home. Every other Saturday I had to attend a staff meeting at Anchor Beach with the rest of the faculty and Connor worked on Saturdays. Neither of us trusted Mikey at home by himself for hours on end, because the one time we had left him alone at home, he'd nearly caught the stove on fire trying to cook himself a serving of French toast. We bid each other farewell at our cars with a couple of kisses, and then we headed to work.

I was at Anchor Beach, and the meeting was well underway. The meeting was normal, boring, and routine. Teachers giving status reports on their classes progress as well as reporting on ways they believe they can improve their classes. There was also a small amount of talk on a few troublesome students, and I was relieved to hear that Mikey was not among those students who the other teachers considered troublesome.

Like I said, it was a normal morning.

Until my phone started ringing, that is. I recognized from the ringtone that it was Mikey calling me.

"Jude?"

"Mikey? What is it, buddy? I'm in a meeting right now." I explained.

"I need you to come home." Mikey explained, "Connor came home early, and I think something's wrong. Something must have happened, because he looked destroyed. He told Mariana to go home, and as soon as she left he locked himself in your guys' room, and he won't talk to me. I can't find the spare key to get into the room. He must have it in there with him."

"I'm on my way." I said, and turned to Momma, "That was Mikey. I gotta go. Something's wrong with Connor."

She nodded her assent, and I hurried from the building.

All kinds of things flew through my head. What could have happened? Was he hurt? Did he lose his job? Did something happen to his Dad? I shook my head clear of the possibilities, and focused on getting home. It only took a matter of twenty minutes, and my car achieving a speed that had the potential to break the sound barrier, for me to reach home. Mikey met me at the door and led me to the door to mine and Connor's bedroom.

"He came home and locked himself in his room." Mikey said, "I've been trying to get him to come out for an hour."

I looked towards the door and reached out to turn the doorknob, finding that it was indeed locked. I pulled a bobby pin and a screwdriver out my pocket, and inserted them into the lock on the door. After twenty seconds, the door unlocked with a click and I pushed it open. Mikey looked at me with wide eyes and raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Danny taught me that trick years ago." I answered his unasked question and entered the room.

Connor was curled up on the bed, his head buried in the pillow. The next thing I noticed was that his scrubs were lying across his desk chair, and they were covered with blood. I moved around the bed and kneeled in front of Connor. His eyes were wide open, and he was staring off into space as he cried silently, tears migrating south across his beautiful face. I reached out and placed my hand on his shoulder.

"Oh, sweetheart… what happened?" I asked softly, massaging his shoulder comfortingly.

"… I tried, Jude." Connor whimpered helplessly, "I tried so hard, and I… I couldn't save him."

My heart dropped into my stomach.

"I-I l-lost a p-patient, J-Juju."

That was as far as he got before he dissolved into near hysterical sobs. My eyes widened, and he lunged forward, wrapping his arms around my waist and burying his face in my chest. I looked up and made eye contact, and Mikey looked horrified.

"Connor, sweetheart, you need to talk to me." I pleaded softly as I ran my head through his dirty blond hair, "You need to tell me what happened."

"I w-wasn't f-fast enough, Juju." He sobbed hysterical, "H-He was only s-sixteen. Got into a b-bad c-car accident. He died on the table. There was NOTHING I COULD DO!"

"Connor, honey, calm down." I begged, "You're gonna make yourself sick."

Connor just kept sobbing. I showered him with soft kissed, trying desperately to make him feel even a little bit better. For only a fraction of a second I considered calling Danny for help, but then I remembered that he and the band were in Japan on tour. So I lay down with Connor and held him. Mikey climbed up on the bed and hesitated for a second. I pulled away from Connor for a second to allow Mikey to crawl in between us. Connor threw his arms around both of us, and eventually he cried himself to sleep, and soon after that Mikey and I followed him into blissful unconsciousness.

We were awoken five hours later by a loud barking noise. Connor shot up in bed and looked around frantically before finding the source of the noise. Mikey and I gave near identical huffs of irritation as our eyes found the source.

At the end of the bed, perched atop Mikey's foot, was Minion. The dog huffed at us once and hopped down and strutted from the room.

"Seriously?" Mikey screamed after the dog, "Is it normal for a dog to be that mischievous?"

"Nope, he's a special case." Connor rasped and his voice was rough from both sleepiness and the crying that he had done earlier.

Mikey and I turned to look at him.

"Are you feeling any better?" I asked softly.

"Barely." Connor stammered around a yawn.

I nodded and slowly rose from the bed.

"Come on." I said as I reached out and pulled both of my boys from the bed.

I directed them into the kitchen to stand around the table before I ventured over to the fridge. I returned and sat the bottle I had retrieved on the table, and sat two glasses next to it. Both glasses had ice cubes in them. Connor stared, befuddled at the bottle of Captain Morgan, before turning his gaze on me.

"Jude, what are you…?" Connor started to ask, but I cut him off.

"My Dad told me once, that it was family tradition to down a glass of rum in honor of fallen family." I explained, "And since your patients mean so much to you, it seems only right. I know I hate drinking, but I think I can understand it this once."

"What about Mikey?" Connor asked confused.

"Mikey can toast with Coke or something."

I unscrewed the cap from the bottle and poured, filling both glasses as Mikey retrieved a can of Coca Cola from the fridge. I raised my glass to the middle, and Connor and Mikey followed.

"To the fallen." I said simply.

The other two parroted my words. Connor and I tipped our glasses back, and we savored it as the burning liquid, warm despite its freezing temperature, washed down our throats. As we all sat down at the table. Mikey looked at us with a slight look of disgust as he gazed at the alcohol in our hands.

"What's that look for?" I asked.

"I don't see how you can drink that stuff." Mikey explained, "It tastes disgusting."

"You'll learn when you're older." I said, "And how do you know what it tastes like."

Mikey turned red.

"Dare from an asshole foster brother." He explained, nodding apology at Connor's hushed reprimand for his language, "He dared me to drink a whole bottle of the stuff. It was nasty, and it burned me mouth. The fact that it was all a trap to get me beaten by my foster dad didn't help, either."

Connor growled, and I elbowed him lightly.

"Don't growl. Minion's the dog, not you." I scolded lightly.

As if summoned by the calling of his name, the haughty teacup poodle padded into the kitchen. He took a single glance at all of us before settling his gaze on Connor. He pranced over, and with a single leap he plopped himself down in his lap, staring up at Connor with wide brown eyes.

"Pet me now, human." The look Minion gave him said.

Connor chuckled and scratched behind Minion's ears.

"Trust Minion to get you to laugh when we can't." Mikey joked.

"Aw come on, who can't help but laugh at his widdle funny face?" Connor joked back as he ruffled Minion's hair. Minion rolled over to lay on his back in Connor's lap, presenting his belly for Connor to scratch and rub.

"You ever get the feeling that if that dog could talk, he'd have a massive superiority complex and he'd be very vocal about it?" Mikey asked.

"Oh, you know he would." I answered deadpan.

We all just sat there, Connor petting Minion and drawing comfort from the dogs please whimpering.

"You okay?" Mikey asked Connor.

Connor looked up and made eye contact with him, sighing lightly.

"I feel terrible, bud." Connor admitted, "It's my job to save people, and I've always been able to."

"I'm sure you did the best you could." I said softly, "You always do."

"I still feel terrible. I feel guilty." Connor said softly, "The look on his parent's face when I told them he… that he didn't make it. It was horrible."

"You blame yourself." Mikey guessed, "That's what you're beating yourself up over, isn't it?"

"If I was fast enough… If I was better, that kid would still be alive." Connor said, his tone dead with guilt, "It's my fault he's dead."

"You can't think like that!" Mikey exclaimed loudly.

"Mikey…" I tried to interrupt.

"No! Let me speak!" Mikey demanded before turning back to Connor, "Just because you couldn't save your patient doesn't make his death your fault. He wrecked his car! That's what killed him. You were trying to save him! That's what you do with everybody!"

Mikey stood from his chair, and stepped around the table to stand between Connor and me.

"That's what you did for me." Mikey continued, "You took me in, you've taken care of me, you still want to adopt me and it's been six months, and I know that sometimes I'm not the easiest kid to deal with but you both accept me and love me anyway! You're more than just a doctor! You're a friend, a husband, a son, an uncle, and to me you're my protector! Both of you are! You… you're my…"

Mikey sputtered to a stop, and his eyes widened in realization for a moment. His eyes flitted between Connor and I as the first tear fell, so he collected himself before staring straight into Connor's eyes.

"Y-You're m-my D-Dads." He stammered softly.

The weight of those words, spoken by this boy, hit both Connor and I in the chest like a freight train.

Dads. Mikey had called us Dads.

Finally, after six months, Mikey had called us his Dads. He had called himself our son.

"You treat me like a son, and I'm so lucky, and I l-love you both so much, and…" Mikey continued, "I think I'm ready for you… for you to a-adopt me."

Almost as soon as the words left him out he was cut off as he was drawn into a tight embrace by Connor, who recommenced sobbing. Only this time, the tears were of joy.

Happiness.

I let a few of my own tears fall as I joined the embrace, hugging my husband and our son happily, overjoyed at the fact that our little family was now nearly complete.

There was only one thing left to do…

It was time to make it official.


End file.
